Alliance
by Flynne
Summary: When a supply exchange with a Chicago-based resistance cell doesn't go as planned, Michelangelo, Angel, and their new allies have to join forces to get things back on track and complete their mission. Set in the 2003 "Same as it Never Was" universe.


_HUGE enormous thanks and hugs to Skitsmix for helping with this fic! They provided all kinds of help with getting characterization of the mice down right, as well as finding all my typos and plot holes. Particularly with the last half of the story - it was pretty much co-written. (And also, thanks for letting me borrow the Surprise Bus.) _;D

_This story takes place about 5 - 7 years before the events in "Same as it Never Was"._

* * *

Alliance

Michelangelo stopped in front of the locked door and sighed a little, then lifted his hand to knock. "Angel?"

For a moment, there was no response, and he prepared to knock again, but then he heard the low, reluctant reply: "What do you want, Mike?"

"April wants us. She sent me to come get you."

There was an even longer pause, but then he heard the lock turn and the door swung wearily open. Angel pushed her hair out of her face and leaned her shoulder against the door jamb. "What does she want?"

Mike's brow furrowed a little in sympathy at the haggard look in her eyes - he knew what it was like to wait for sleep that wouldn't come - but he knew she wouldn't welcome his concern. Not right now. So he just shrugged a little and said, "She didn't tell me. Just said she wanted to talk to us about something and I should come get you."

Despite the grief that had lingered on her face for the past few days, his reply kindled a spark of interest and she nodded once. "Okay, hang on." She disappeared back into her room for a moment, then reappeared with her hair pulled out of the way into a ponytail, shrugging into her battered leather jacket as she locked the door behind her.

Mike led the way to the command center while Angel paced silently along by his side. He did a little hop-step as they approached the door, pulling it open and waving her through. She didn't smile, but she gave his shoulder a fond little pat as she stepped past him.

April lifted her head and smiled as they entered. "Hey, Angel. Thanks for coming."

Angel nodded. "Mike said you wanted to see me?"

"Both of you, actually. I've got a job for you."

"I don't have a team, remember?" Angel asked stonily.

April's gaze softened sympathetically, but she didn't acknowledge the hint of rebellion in Angel's tone. "I don't need a team. Just you and Mike. What would you say to a road trip?"

Mike's brow ridges lifted. "You want to send both of us?"

Angel shook her head, expression darkening. "I can't leave. Not now. Karai's troops killed half my commandos. I'm not just going to leave and let her get away with it."

"You said yourself that you don't have a team," April said, a hint of steel entering her voice. "You need time to regroup. And this is an errand that can't wait."

"With all due respect, April," Mike ventured, "Angel and I are two of the main leaders here. Are you sure you want to send both of us at once?"

"You two are the only two soldiers I _can_ send. Anyone else, I'd have to send a larger team; and we can't afford to send a larger crew right now. But I know you two can handle it." She put her palms on her desk and stood. "I've been in contact with a resistance cell in Chicago. They need our help."

"Chicago?" Mike repeated, surprised.

"You won't be going the whole way. They'll be sending a crew to meet you," April explained. "It's a trade of sorts. The cell in Chicago needs weapons. We'll be taking them that shipment we confiscated from the gun runners last month. In return, they'll give us some supplies and seeds for our hydroponic garden and some grow lights. Our food supply is going to be pretty slim this winter if we don't do something."

Mike frowned a little. "Even meeting them halfway, we'd be gone a couple days. I don't like the idea of being gone for so long."

"We don't really have a choice. We need supplies, and the Chicago cell has been struggling." She walked forward and handed a set of keys to Angel. "There's an armored truck packed and fueled up out on the loading dock. Our contact is a man named Vincent."

Mike took the map she held out to him, scanning the rendezvous point marked in rural Ohio, just past the Pennsylvania border. "Did he pick this place?"

"We both did," April said reassuringly. "I've been in contact with him for a couple months now and I think we can trust him. And if it turns out I'm wrong…" She smiled humorlessly. "Like I said: you two can handle it."

Angel hesitated, then finally nodded once in reluctant assent. "When do you want us to leave?"

"If you leave first thing tomorrow morning, you should have plenty of time to get there," April said. "The plan is for both of you to drive near the rendezvous point, conceal the trucks before you meet, then exchange keys. Vincent will be driving an armored truck as well. We decided just to swap vehicles instead of taking the time to unload and reload the cargo."

"Sounds like a plan," Mike said. "And it gives us time to make sure we pack enough snacks for the road," he finished, tipping Angel a wink. His playfulness was rewarded as her stern mask finally cracked, allowing a shadow of a smile to show through.

Michelangelo's mental alarm clock awakened him the next morning in the gray hours before sunup. He made it to the loading dock before Angel and took a few moments to inspect the cargo and make sure they had enough extra fuel on board.

April came down with Angel to see them off. Even after so many years of war, she couldn't hide the light of sisterly concern in her eyes every time Mike would head out on a mission. Mike paused before climbing into the armored truck, looking up at her to ask, "So, April...just out of curiosity, does this Vincent guy know he's meeting up with a giant turtle?"

She chuckled. "Yes, I warned him."

"What did he have to say to that?"

"He seemed surprised, but he just laughed a little and said he's pretty sure you won't be the strangest thing he's ever seen."

"Just as long as we can skip the screaming when he sees me," Mike said with a dry smile. He stepped close so April could give him a brief hug, then hopped into the truck.

The growl of the diesel engine seemed loud in the silence as the truck pulled away from the base. Mike kept a keen eye on the sky, watching for flying drones, and Angel's eyes flicked back and forth every time they passed an alley or cross-street. Their journey was unobserved, however, and they passed the city limits just as the clouds began to blush with the first light of dawn.

Before the war, the trip would have taken about six hours. Now, with the Shredder's patrols monitoring the main highways, Mike and Angel were forced to take the poorly-maintained back roads in order to avoid detection, which would add at least another two hours to their trip. But one of the advantages of living in the the USA - or what had previously been the USA - was that it was a very large country, and despite the Shredder's legions of soldiers, there were only so many places he could be at once. His main forces were clustered around the densely populated areas, so once the armored truck was out of the city and into the back country, the chances of being discovered were low.

Angel winced as the tires bounced over a particularly deep pothole, but let go of the wheel with one hand to rummage in the rucksack she'd brought. She pulled out a battered paperback and tossed it in Mike's general direction. "Here."

Mike's hand shot out, just managing to snag the book as it arced past his head. "What's this for?"

"If you think I'm going to drive all day in complete silence, you've got another thing coming," she said with a little smirk. "Read to me, co-pilot."

Mike flipped the book around to see the cover. "Ooh, _Dracula_."

"Have you read it before?"

"I've seen the movies, but I never read the book." He sobered a little, staring down at the faded image on the cover. Even after so many years, his reply still sounded lopsided and half-finished in his own ears. The additional: _But I think Raph might have read it_ didn't come out automatically any more, but he couldn't help thinking it. Raph and Leo had read the most out of the four of them when they had been younger. He hadn't heard from either of them in years but he hadn't been able to uproot them from his mind.

"Well, you've been missing out. The movies don't even come close to doing the story justice." When Mike didn't respond, Angel reached across the bench seat and lightly flicked the side of his head. "Yo, Earth to Mike. Your audience awaits."

Mike sighed a little, shaking off the habitual melancholy with practiced ease, then thumbed open the book to the first page. "Okay, here goes…"

Mike read for short periods of time on and off to keep the silence from becoming monotonous. Angel listened without interruption, aside from a brief argument about reading style once Jonathan Harker finally arrived at Castle Dracula: "_Dammit, Mike, I will __**push you out of the truck**_ _if you keep making Dracula sound like the Count from Sesame Street."_

The bright morning sun tracked higher in the sky, but by the time the dusty armored truck drew near the rendezvous point, heavy cloud cover had rolled in. They were in a desolate, wooded area now and dusk was creeping in early beneath the shadows of the trees.

Mike consulted the map April had handed him and gestured to a nearly-forgotten path, overgrown with brambles. "Pull in there. It's less than a mile to where we're supposed to meet these guys. We'll leave the truck and scout it out."

Angel nodded. "Good idea."

They concealed the van as best as they could, then cautiously made their way forward. Mike led the way, keeping close beneath the shelter of the trees. Angel adjusted her rucksack on her shoulders to leave her hands free as they walked. The wood was huddled against a tall, rocky bluff. The weathered stone was pitted and gouged, and Mike could see that several of the more deeply shadowed areas hinted at caves hollowed in the rock.

After they had traveled another quarter mile or so, Mike froze and held up his hand. Angel immediately stilled, holding her breath while he listened. He couldn't see anything, but his ears had caught the faint sound boots crunching in the underbrush. A moment later he heard the sound of hushed voices filtering through the trees.

"It's almost 14:00. Do you think they meant 14:00 their time or our time?"

"Probably their time," came the reply. The voice was a bass rumble, but sounded curiously muffled.

"Man, I hope so. 'Cause if not, we've got another hour before they get here and it looks like it's gonna rain."

Mike waited and watched - and in another moment, he could see the speakers. One of them was noticeably smaller than the other, but they were both tall and powerfully built. They moved like soldiers, but wore dark pants and battered leather jackets instead of uniforms. Mike frowned a little as he saw that both of them also were wearing helmets. "Well that explains why their voices sound strange. Exactly what kind of truck did you bring us that you needed to wear helmets?" he muttered.

Angel gave him a little nudge, a wordless: _Shouldn't we get moving?_

Mike nodded once and glided out from his cover, Angel close behind. The two men noticed them almost immediately as they joined them in the clearing, halting in place and turning to face them. No weapons were drawn, but Mike could tell that if they felt threatened, they would be quick to respond. The gleaming faceplates of the helmets reflected the brooding clouds, obscuring any view he might have had of their faces. He hooked his thumb in his belt near his nunchaku, breaking the silence to ask, "Which one of you is Vincent?"

"That'd be me," the shorter man said. He folded his arms across his chest, stepping forward to stand a little in front of his companion. "I take it you're Mike?" Seeing the turtle's answering nod, Vincent tipped his head in Angel's direction. "You gonna introduce me to your pretty friend?"

"The name is Angel," Angel said flatly.

Vincent gave a jaunty little bow, undeterred by the ice in her voice. "The name fits you."

"Are we going to swap cargo trucks or not?" she asked impatiently.

"I'll show you mine if you show me yours, sweetheart. Ow!" Vincent flinched as his companion's hand struck the back of his helmet with a startlingly loud _crack._

"Don't mind him, Angel Ma'am," the bigger man said apologetically. "He's an ass, but he's harmless. We won't keep you any longer than necessary. If you follow us, we'll take you to the truck. It's about a quarter mile back that way."

Mike started to nod, but a sudden cold shiver lanced down his spine. He loosed his 'chuck from his belt. "Stop!" he hissed, fingers tightening around the spiked handle. "We're not alone."

Vincent and his friend immediately tensed, swiveling to stand back-to-back as they scanned the surrounding trees. Angel moved around behind Mike, and he heard the telltale _click_ as she prepped her gun to fire.

There was a great rending crash, and a Karai-bot came storming over a nearby rise, splintering trees as it swung its iron fists. The squad of Foot soldiers and ninja teeming around its feet was small but heavily armed, and they outnumbered the group of resistance fighters five to one.

"Dammit, Vincent, you were followed!" Angel snarled.

"Hey, they didn't follow _us!_" he protested, drawing the pair of handguns concealed beneath his jacket.

"Does it matter? They're _here!_" Mike barked impatiently. "Angel, go left!" He dodged to his right, nunchaku humming furiously as it whirled with deadly speed. The blast of gunfire tore apart the air as Angel engaged the enemy. Mike hurled himself at the Foot ninja like a shelled missile. He heard Vincent shooting now, too.

He felt the impact as his nunchaku cracked against the skull of a Foot ninja, then spun on his heel to strike out at a second black-clad assailant. A blinding crimson streak sizzled past his head as the Karai-bot's lasers fired up. To his surprise, an answering laser blast flashed back at the 'bot from Vincent's friend - the big man must have acquired some Foot tech somewhere along the way.

Six Foot were down, taken out by Mike's nunchaku; Angel was engaged in hand-to-hand with another soldier, kicking and slashing with her knife. Vincent huddled behind a fallen tree and traded shots with the enemy, using the thick trunk for cover while his friend exchanged laser fire with the Karai-bot. The towering silver robot was advancing, but its steps were halting and slow - and Mike saw that the Chicago fighter was concentrating all his fire on the knee joints, and the metal gears were melting.

"Vincent!" Mike shouted. The helmeted head swiveled around, and Mike gestured at the 'bot with a wave of his arm. "Cover me!"

Vincent nodded sharply. He holstered his gun and pulled a pair of flares from inside his jacket. He struck the end of the flares against his jeans to ignite them, then rose up on his knees and hurled the flares across the clearing. Blue-white sparks sprayed through the air. Foot soldiers hit the dirt as the flares exploded. Mike bolted forward, holstering his 'chuck as Vincent whipped an unlit flare at him. He held it in his teeth, grabbing hold of the Karai-bot's descending arm to swing himself up onto its back, clambering up to sit on its shoulders. Clinging to the neck with his knees, Mike struck the flare against his plastron and jammed the sparking rod into the joint between the neck and shoulders, then gathered his limbs beneath him and sprang away. The flare exploded, sending the 'bot's angular head flying. The robot staggered on its melted knees, then toppled forward with a metallic screech and crashed to the ground.

Vincent whooped in triumph, but the sound was drowned out as a fresh wave of enemy troops appeared over the ridge. Their attackers abruptly pulled back, and Mike's eyes widened when he saw a pair of grenades lobbed through the air. He hurled himself across the clearing and bowled into Angel, wrapping himself around her as the burning concussion wave thumped the air, reverberating around his head and causing his ears to ring. He winced, feeling the too-familiar harsh scrape of shrapnel against his carapace.

"That's gonna leave a mark," he ground out. "Angel, you okay?"

"Yeah, thanks," she said breathlessly. She freed her right hand from where it was pinned against his plastron and drew her handgun once more, firing over his shoulder at the approaching troops. Her eyes cut over to where their allies had been. "Mike, we've got trouble," she said sharply.

Michelangelo followed her gaze to the fallen tree, now blasted into a smoking pile of kindling. The fighters from Chicago were both moving, but he could tell things weren't right. The bigger man seemed to be dragging his right arm; Vincent was rising unsteadily to his hands and knees, but shrapnel had shredded the back of his jacket, and the battered leather was slick with blood.

Mike leaped up, but the ground seemed to shift beneath his feet as if a rug had been pulled out from under him, and he fell to his knees, shaking his head dizzily. "Aw, damn."

"Mike, you okay?" Angel asked tightly.

"Guess that grenade rang my bell a little harder than I thought," he answered. "Feels like up is sideways."

"Come on." Angel ducked under his arm and lurched to her feet, hauling them both up with a growl of effort.

Mike shut his eyes as they started to move, depending on the feel of the dry earth beneath his feet rather than sight to guide him. He felt as if he were about to fall forward at any moment, but managed to keep his feet using Angel as a reference point. She guided him over to the remnants of the fallen tree, and he opened his eyes again just as they reached cover.

Vincent's friend was hovering over him, one hand fisted in the tattered leather jacket. "Vinnie, c'mon, talk to me."

"I'm okay, Modo. It's not as bad as it looks," came the strained reply.

"How do _you _know how your back looks?" Modo snapped.

Angel let go of Mike and rose up on her knees, firing over the top of the log to deter the Foot soldiers who had once again started to advance. "Guys, they've got another Karai-bot," she said, eyes widening as the sinister metal silhouette appeared behind the swarming black-clad soldiers.

"We've got to move," Mike said. "Vincent, Modo, can you guys walk?"

Modo hesitated, glancing doubtfully down at his partner, but Vincent nodded stubbornly. "Yeah, we're good. But they're gonna be able to move a lot faster."

Mike frowned. "Modo, you think you can take out that 'bot like you did the other one?"

Modo shook his head in frustration. "Sorry, man, no can do. That blast messed up my gears. I'm lucky I can even move this thing." Mike glanced down at Modo's right arm, and his brow ridges lifted in surprise. He had been expecting to see a Foot tech laser blaster, but instead he saw a gleaming mechanical hand. As he looked closer, he could see the bulky silhouette of an entirely artificial arm housed within the scorched leather sleeve.

"Mike, I'm almost out of rounds," Angel said tersely.

Mike swallowed dryly as he counted the advancing Foot troops. Too many. With his unsteady vision, he could see one of the point soldiers readying another grenade.

"Angel, when I say run, _run._ Modo, Vincent, follow her - there's some caves a little ways back that we can hole up in." Angel's mouth tightened, not liking the order to go on without him, but she recognized the tone of command in his voice and didn't argue. Mike crouched and got ready to spring, concentrating on the solid earth beneath him and tuning out the unsteady listing feeling his concussion had left him with. The Foot soldier pulled the pin and drew back his arm.

"Run!" Mike shouted. Angel leaped to her feet and darted into the trees, Vincent and Modo following close behind.

The soldier threw the grenade.

Mike launched himself into the air, catching hold of the log as he flipped his legs back over his body in an invisible flying dragon maneuver. He felt the grenade strike his foot and fly back the way it had come. He landed on his feet, stumbling a bit as his equilibrium lurched, then hurled himself into the trees and raced after his companions. Three, two, one…

The grenade hit the Karai-bot in the chest, detonating with a shriek of tearing metal. The 'bot's engine exploded, drowning out the screams of the Foot soldiers that were swallowed up in the blast. Smoking chunks of metal littered the ground around him and he felt the impact as a second piece of shrapnel ricocheted off his shell.

Mike couldn't hear any of the Foot soldiers coming after him, but he knew it wouldn't be long before the survivors were on his tail. He clenched his teeth, frustrated at the beginnings of double vision that made the tree branches in front of him overlap in a dizzying cross-hatch of swaying shadows. A sudden motion to his right made him skid to a halt, whirling his 'chuck free into a spin.

"Whoa, Mike, it's me!" Angel hissed, skittering back a step.

A relieved sigh gusted out of his chest as he slid his weapon into his belt. "Thought I told you to get going!" he said, falling in behind her.

"Thought you'd know by now I never listen to you," she shot back. "I wasn't gonna leave you behind."

He chuckled a little, able to move faster now that he could focus on her and follow her through the trees. "What about Modo and Vincent?"

"I pointed them in the right direction. They should be there by now."

By the time Mike and Angel reached the caves, the clouds that had been threatening rain for the past couple hours finally opened up. Angel ducked in first with Mike close behind - but he nearly plowed into her as she let out a startled exclamation and stopped short.

He tensed, resting his hand on his 'chuck. "What is it?"

"Um." She cleared her throat and moved forward into the small chamber, disbelief and amusement tangling in her voice as she said, "These guys have been holding out on us, Mike."

One of the Chicago fighters had turned on a small flashlight and set it in the center of the cave. In the dim light, Mike could see the helmets discarded on the stony floor. His gaze tracked to where the pair of soldiers knelt against the wall and a jolt of surprise rippled through him as he saw their faces for the first time.

"Holy shell - you guys are rats!"

Vincent scowled. "Aw, man, I did _not_ drive 400 miles, get shot at, and get exploded just to have this guy call me a filthy _rat! _Listen, compadre - I am a _mouse!"_

"Whoa, easy, Dude," Mike said, lifting his hand placatingly. "Trust me, it was an honest mistake. My dad was a giant talking rat."

"You must take after your mom's side of the family," Vincent said, wincing a little as Modo eased him out of his jacket and the bandolier he wore underneath. "How's it look?" he asked over his shoulder.

"Like you lost a fight with a cheese grater," the burly gray mouse answered with a frown. Several lacerations had been carved deep into the muscle of Vincent's back, his short white fur stained startlingly crimson with a wide slick of blood. "The wound edges are clean and it looks like the bleeding's mostly stopped," Modo went on, "but you're gonna need a lot of stitches if you're gonna heal right and we ain't got a sewing kit."

Angel let the rucksack slide off her shoulders and rummaged inside for a brief moment. "Vincent. Here." She tossed a compact rectangular container at his feet. "It's a field medic kit. There's not a lot in there, but it should do the job."

"Hey, thanks, sweetheart!" he said with a grin. "And it's just Vinnie. The only person who calls me 'Vincent' all the time is my mother."

"Or Throttle," Modo muttered under his breath.

"Same thing, man."

A soft chuckle escaped Modo's broad chest in spite of the anxious expression on his face.

Mike drifted to the mouth of the cave, hovering in the shadows as he peered out into the driving rain. There was no sign of pursuit, but he knew the Foot wouldn't give up that easily. Keeping his palm on the cool stone to keep his balance, he made his way back into the cave and sat on the floor.

Modo had cleaned the wounds as best as he could with supplies from Angel's kit, but he was shaking his head unhappily. "Sorry, Vinnie, someone else is gonna have to stitch you back together." He made an aborted gesture with his mechanical arm. "Fine motor control is shot. Charley-girl is gonna have her work cut out for her when we get back, tryin' to fix this thing."

"No problemo!" Vinnie drawled. He winked at Angel. "Hey, sweetheart, feel like playing nurse?"

Angel's eyes narrowed. "No," she said frostily. The temperature in the cave seemed to drop a few degrees. She crossed her arms and looked away. "Mike, you can do it."

"Yeah, about that…" Mike gave her an apologetic look. "I see two of you right now, and the world kinda feels like it's about to tip over. I think it's you by default."

Angel grimaced, but Mike could see that she wasn't truly upset. Despite any annoyance Vinnie's flirting might have caused, she wouldn't begrudge a fellow soldier help when he needed it. "All right, give me some room." She moved to sit behind him, tossing the flashlight to Modo so he could direct the light over her shoulder while she started to work. Vinnie didn't flinch, but the teasing smile vanished from his face and Angel could tell he was holding his breath. Out of his line of sight, her stern expression softened a bit in sympathy.

"Well, since we're stuck here for a while, we might as well get to know each other," she said briskly. "What's your story? Were you guys exposed to the Utrom mutagen, too?"

"What? Mutagen?" Vinnie started to turn around, and Modo had to grab him by the ear to keep him still. Vinnie gave him a dirty look and swatted his hand away. "You mean that outbreak in New York way back when? Nah, sweetheart, I was born with this gorgeous body. Well, most of it, anyway" he added, rapping his knuckles against the gleaming metal plate that made up half of his face.

Modo "hmph-ed", preoccupied by the inner workings of his mechanical arm. He'd shifted the flashlight from his left hand to his tail, leaving his hand free to flip up a small access port on the inside of his wrist. "Yeah, we picked up a few spare parts back home on Mars," he said. His brow furrowed with concentration as he opened and closed his fist, but the movements of his hand were jerky and Mike could hear a faint grinding sound from within the mechanism. Modo finally heaved a frustrated sigh and gave up, closing the port with a snap.

Angel darted a startled glance at Mike. Mike just shrugged a little in return. Modo's comment hadn't really told him anything that he wasn't already suspecting. Well, okay, the _Mars_ bit was a little surprising - even after all the strange things he'd seen in his life, he hadn't been expecting to discover aliens within his _own_ solar system - but Modo and Vinnie weren't mutants, so assuming that two giant talking mice with little antennae were aliens really wasn't putting too much of a strain on the ol' logic muscle.

"Okay, one down," Angel said, cutting the suture.

"Just one?" Vinnie asked plaintively.

"Well, this would be a lot easier if you weren't so furry. I have to go slow to make sure the edges of the wound match up."

"You got any clippers in that magic bag of yours?" Modo asked.

Vinnie half-turned and jabbed an angry finger at his partner. "You will stop that blasphemy right now. Last time I listened to Charley and let her cut my fur before she stitched me up it took _weeks_ for it to grow back in. _Not. Happening._"

The smirk on Modo's face told Mike that the bigger mouse had gotten the reaction he'd been aiming for. Mike snickered, clearing his throat with a smug little cough. "That's never been a problem for me."

"Yeah, you've got the advantage there," Vinnie said. "And I'm bettin' the ladies dig the scars - am I right?"

"Naturally," Mike chuckled, then waggled one brow ridge suggestively. "Among other things."

"Don't _you_ start," Angel said, giving Mike a warning look from beneath her lowered brows. Vinnie snickered, while Modo just sighed and cast a resigned look toward the shadowed ceiling.

Angel turned her attention back to her patient. "This cut's a little deeper," she told him. "Sit still. I've got to stitch your muscles back together."

"Consider me putty in your hands, sweetheart." The mouse spoke lightly, but Mike saw the tension cording his forearms as his hands curled into fists.

"So, Vinnie," he said, "Modo said you came from Mars? How'd you guys end up in Chicago?"

Vinnie looked up and smiled a little, recognizing the attempt at distraction for what it was, but he willingly launched into his tale. From the chain of events Vinnie described, Mike guessed that the mice were close to his own age, or perhaps a mere handful of years older. Vinnie told him about the war on Mars nearly forty years before that had decimated his home planet, and the attack in space that had left him, Modo, and a third mouse named Throttle stranded on Earth.

By the time Vinnie had brought Mike up to speed on the current situation - the resistance cell in Chicago led by their friend Charley, with Throttle as her second-in-command - Angel was putting in the last suture. She patted Vinnie gently on the arm and rose to her feet, heading to the cave entrance to wash the blood from her hands in the steadily falling rain.

Vinnie was shaking. He hadn't budged while Angel worked, but now that she was finished and he didn't have to be still any longer, the pain of his injuries was catching up to him. Modo shrugged out of his own jacket and laid it out on the cave floor, curling his hand around Vinnie's arm. "C'mon, bro," he said, giving him a gentle tug.

Vinnie didn't resist, stretching out facedown on top of Modo's jacket with his head pillowed on his folded arms. He sighed wearily and shut his eyes, drifting into a light doze almost immediately.

"He's your brother?" Mike asked quietly, watching Modo carefully cover Vinnie with his own torn but still-serviceable coat.

"From another mother," Modo answered. "We ain't related, but after all we've been through together, it doesn't really matter. Throttle always says there's only three things in the whole crazy universe you can count on: your brains, your bike, and your bros." He shook his head. "Well, I'll tell ya I've done some stupid stuff in my time, and as much as I hate to admit it, my bike's gettin' on in years and she ain't as tough as she used to be, but…" He managed a spare, fond smile through his worry, resting his hand gently on Vinnie's uninjured shoulder. "...my bros have never let me down."

Michelangelo averted his eyes, breathing carefully around the hollow ache that flared to life within his chest. He'd lived with the tangle of resentment, anger, and betrayal so long that most days he hardly noticed it any more, but seeing the way Modo and Vinnie interacted with each other had reawakened the longing that he had stubbornly locked away.

"So what's your story, man?" Modo asked. He nodded toward Mike's left arm. "How'd you get your wing clipped?"

One side of Mike's mouth lifted in a smile that he didn't really feel. "Surprise bus," he answered lightly.

Modo's smile mirrored his own. The mouse only had one eye - and an artificial one at that - but Mike could still see the look of understanding from one veteran to another, and he knew Modo wouldn't press.

Angel returned to the sheltered portion of the cave, drying her clean hands on her jeans. "Hey, Mike, how's the head?" she asked, sitting down at his right side.

"Still attached as far as I know," he answered.

"Good to hear," she said dryly. "I'm still gonna check you out. Modo, you wanna toss me the flashlight?"

Mike pulled off his mask so Angel could get a look at his eyes. He winced as the flashlight beam burned straight to the back of his skull, but the lines of concern in Angel's face eased a little as she sat back on her heels. "Well, your pupils are equal and responding to light," she said. "You'll have a hell of a headache, but you'll be okay. Are you still seeing double?"

"It's actually a little better - I think if I avoid sudden movements for a bit, my brains will get themselves organized."

Angel smirked. "There's a first time for everything."

"Heh." Mike put his mask back on, lifting a brow ridge at her. "Always the sass from you. You must hang around with some terrible influences."

"The worst," she agreed solemnly, settling down beside him.

He huffed a laugh, but it ended in a groan as he tilted us head back against the cool stone behind him. "I would kill for an excedrin."

"Why don't you catch a few winks, Mike?" Modo asked. "Me 'n Angel can keep an eye on things."

Michelangelo didn't like the idea of sleep when the enemy was so near, but he was with Angel and he trusted Modo...and his head was pounding so fiercely that there was a good chance he might be sick. "Okay," he said tiredly. He listed a little to the side to rest his head on Angel's shoulder.

"If you drool on me, I will push you on your face," she warned him - but she shifted position just a bit so he could lean more comfortably against her.

"Duly noted." Mike smiled and closed his eyes.

The long, rainy afternoon and chilly night passed in a blur for Mike. Angel called his name every couple hours until he woke up, checking his pupils and his recollection of the day's events. Sometime before dawn, Mike woke on his own. His head still hurt, but the skull-splitting pain from earlier had eased; and, to his relief, the nausea that had unsettled him earlier had subsided.

"Good morning," Angel said, blinking tiredly down at him.

"Is it morning?"

"Almost."

Mike scrubbed a hand across his face and looked toward the cave entrance. "Heard anything out there?"

"Not a sound." She reached into her rucksack and pulled out half a sandwich and a half-empty canteen. "This is for you. Sorry - I should have given it to you earlier. You can finish what's there."

"What about the rest of you?"

She made a dismissive gesture. "Modo and I didn't need much water. And we made sure Vinnie got enough. I had the other half of that sandwich, and I'll give the last one to the guys when they wake up."

Mike looked over at their new allies. Modo was asleep, his left hand still resting lightly on Vinnie's shoulder. Vinnie had moved nearer to his friend during the night, lying as close as he could get without actually curling against him. He seemed to be sleeping as well, but even in the dim light, lines of pain were clearly visible, etched on his whiskered face. Mike winced a little in sympathy. He knew from personal experience that wounds like Vinnie's would feel worse before they started to improve.

"I'm gonna take a look around," he said. "We've got to figure out if the Foot are still out there."

"You sure you can?" Angel asked doubtfully. "You were pretty dizzy last night."

Mike rose slowly and stretched his stiff muscles, walking a few paces back and forth. "I'm good. Still a little lightheaded, but nothing I can't handle."

Their low conversation reached Modo through the haze of sleep. He lifted his head and swallowed back a yawn. "'Sup, turtle-man?"

"I'll be back in a bit. Gonna see if I can find our party crashers from yesterday." .

"Yeah, well...I know your back is harder than most, but watch it, okay?" Modo said in concern.

Mike winked at him. "Don't worry, I'm a ninja. I got this."

A smirk crossed his face as he departed, hearing Modo turn to Angel and ask, "...Wait, is he serious about the ninja thing?"

He made his way to the mouth of the cave, then paused, listening. The rain had moved past, and the only sound he could hear was the stirring of leaves in the wind. He ducked into the trees, a shadow moving silently through the gray pre-dawn light.

The Foot soldiers had set up camp in a large clearing less than half a mile from the cave. It was almost pathetically easy for him to draw near the camp; the Shredder still had ninja under his command, but nowadays the Foot was more about brute force and overwhelming numbers. He could see a handful of sentries, but the guards were bleary-eyed and bored, confident that their greater firepower would deter any attack against the camp.

Not a single leaf stirred at his passing as Mike crept closer. The underbrush thinned a bit as he approached - and he bit back a frustrated groan as he saw the armored truck that he and Angel had brought parked in the center of the camp. A second truck sat next to it, and he was willing to bet his 'chuck that the vehicle was the one belonging to Modo and Vincent.

_Aw, __**shell**_.

He didn't move for several minutes, narrowed eyes scanning the camp and noting the position of the troops and other vehicles. A few tents were scattered around the clearing, but for the most part, he could tell that, except for the scattered sentries, most of the Foot soldiers were housed in the vehicles. It looked like a small convoy of troop transport trucks and military supplies. He was relieved to see that there were no more Karai-bots, but he and his fellow soldiers were seriously outnumbered and outgunned. At least for the moment. A thin, determined smile crossed his face.

He took a long breath to relax himself and slow his heart rate, then began gliding around the perimeter of the camp. It took a little more effort than usual - he could still feel his balance center struggling for control - but he'd dealt with worse. It took him just a few moments to make his way from the shelter of the trees to the trucks, flitting from shadow to shadow as he infiltrated the camp. The clumsy crunch of breaking twigs under heavy boots alerted him to a Foot soldier's approach, and he vaulted on top of the truck Angel had driven, landing without a sound and laying flat against the roof.

He tensed as the footsteps paused at the rear of the truck...but then they moved on and faded into silence. He waited just a moment longer, then swung himself to the ground behind the truck. Angel still had the keys, but he carried a lock pick in one of the pouches on his belt and it didn't take him long to jimmy the door open.

It took Michelangelo less than two minutes to empty one of the burlap bags in the back of the truck and fill it with what he needed. The door of the truck locked behind him as he slipped back outside. He tarried seconds longer to grab the last of the snacks he had packed from the glove compartment, then darted from shadow to shadow until he reached the edge of the camp and disappeared into the trees.

The eastern sky was turning red when he arrived back at the cave. Angel gave a little relieved sigh as he rejoined them. Vinnie had awakened and was leaning against Modo. He clearly felt terrible, but his gaze was alert when it landed on Mike's face.

"Did ya find 'em?" he asked.

"Yep," Mike answered. "And they've got the trucks."

"_Shit_," Angel slouched back against the wall.

"Hey, cheer up!" Mike said, nudging her knee with his foot. He swung the burlap bag off his back and set it down next to her. "I brought you a present," he sing-songed.

Angel peeked into the bag. Her eyes lit with a predatory gleam as she saw several bricks of C-4, detonators, and timers. "You always get me the nicest stuff," she grinned.

"Where the heck did you find that?" Modo asked.

Mike gave a casual little shrug. "From the truck," he said smugly.

Modo blinked in disbelief, then started to laugh. "He _wasn't _kidding about the ninja thing, was he?"

"Question not the ways of the ninja, grasshopper," Mike said sagely.

"Aww, what, no presents for us?" Vinnie asked.

Mike reached into the bag to pull out a second, smaller bag he had stuffed inside. He grinned. "That depends on how good your aim is with grenades."

Vinnie's eyes widened as he looked in the bag Mike handed him. "Man, these are Foot ordnance. Where did you get these?"

Mike's grin widened. "From one of _their_ trucks."

The mouse laughed and stretched out his hand to bump fists with Michelangelo. "Excellent."

"Well, my momma always said to speak softly and carry lots of grenades," Modo said with a smirk. He looked back and forth between Mike and Angel. "I take it we're gonna steal our trucks back?"

"That's the plan." Mike looked down at Vincent. "You feeling up to it?"

Vinnie took a deep breath, drawing himself up and shuttering his pain and weariness behind a determined expression. "I can do it. What'd you have in mind?"

Angel stayed close behind Michelangelo as they carefully retraced his steps back to the Foot campsite. Modo and Vinnie were out of sight, moving around to the western edge of the campsite while Angel and Mike veered east.

The sound of footsteps made Mike pull up short. He stretched his arm out to steer Angel back, melting into the shelter of the thicket. A cluster of soldiers passed by, scanning the forest with their guns at the ready. They had resumed the search for the resistance fighters that had escaped them the day before. Mike's eyes narrowed as he took stock of the situation. It would make their approach more difficult, but it would make infiltrating the enemy camp easier once they arrived.

He waited until the soldiers had passed, then beckoned to Angel with a tilt of his head. The trees thinned as they drew near to the clearing. Mike gestured that Angel move around to the right. She nodded once and slipped away, carrying her rucksack full of rigged C-4. The rest of the explosives were in the burlap bag that Mike carried.

Mike headed off to the left, darting swiftly and silently into position alongside one of the bigger trucks in the convoy. He couldn't see Angel as he wove his way from vehicle to vehicle, leaving small bricks of C-4 behind, but he could feel her there. Exactly two minutes after he had entered the camp, he was drifting into the trees again. Angel materialized out of the shadows, giving him a sharp, triumphant grin. They retreated a short distance into the forest and hunkered down. Mike held his breath, mentally counting down.

The C-4 detonated in one simultaneous blast, shaking the air like a thunderclap. As soon as the burning shockwave whipped past, Mike sprang to his feet with Angel at his heels, racing back the way they had come. He heard the sound of grenades and felt the ground shudder beneath his feet and he knew the Chicago fighters were breaking into the far side of the camp.

Mike sprinted between smoking remnants of trucks, spinning and striking with his nunchaku as stunned but furious Foot soldiers caught sight of him and closed in. Angel had her knife out again, lunging back and forth with deadly accuracy. Gunfire cracked somewhere up ahead, telling Mike that Modo and Vinnie were slicing their way through the tattered remains of the Shredder's soldiers.

Mike didn't try to completely take down every soldier he fought - the focus was just on getting past them, pushing through until they reached the trucks. The air was thick with smoke, the crackle of flame all but drowning out the cries of pain and rage from the Foot. He pressed close to the enemy, forcing them to engage in hand-to-hand combat rather than fire weapons into clusters of their own men.

Vinnie and Modo came running around the shattered bulk of a transport truck. "We're clear!" Modo hollered. "We gotta go now!"

Angel vaulted into the truck as Mike swung himself in to the passenger side. She revved the engine and floored it, throwing up a cloud of dirt and gravel as she sped down the dirt path toward the main road. Vinnie threw himself behind the wheel of his own vehicle, waiting just long enough for Modo to slam the door shut behind him before peeling out behind her.

Modo leaned out the passenger side window, ignoring the bullets that whizzed by his ears as he hurled one grenade after another back towards the camp. The grenades bounced once, twice - and exploded, gouging a chain of deep pits that rendered the road impassable. Even over the roar of the engines and the sound of fading gunfire, Mike could hear Vinnie's wild cheering, and he started to laugh.

Gravel changed to cracked pavement as Angel led the way back to the former state road. She stayed on the road for only a few miles before following a junction south, driving further down a rural back road, well out of the way of the previously planned route home. They drove until they reached an intersection with another state road. Angel braked and waved Vinnie down, and both trucks coasted to a stop. The four fighters climbed out of the vehicles and met in the middle of the road.

"You're a crazy one, Mike," Modo said with a sideways grin, "but crazy's always worked for me."

Mike smirked. "Works for us most of the time, too."

"Yeah, man, that was wild!" Vinnie said. He winked at Angel. "You're pretty crazy yourself, Angel-girl. That was some nice work, rigging the timers for the explosives like that."

Angel ignored the wink but looked pleased with herself, gesturing at the westbound branch of the crossroad. "If you follow this road, it should get you back to where you need to go."

"Yeah, we've got an old road atlas. We can manage." Vinnie turned to his friend. "Bro, what's the arm situation? Think you can drive?"

Modo frowned. "What'd you do to yourself?" He took a few steps back to stand behind Vinnie, carefully pulling apart the rips in the back of his jacket to see the wounds. "You're bleeding again, man. Looks like you popped some stitches."

Angel shrugged out of her coat with a put-upon sigh, unzipping the hooded sweatshirt she wore over her tank top. "Jacket off, Vincent."

Vinnie waggled his eyebrow at her. "Couldn't get enough of me, sweetheart?"

She waited until he'd let his jacket slide off his shoulders and tossed it to Modo before moving around behind him. "I spent a long time putting you back together and I don't want you screwing up my work," she said. Her sweatshirt was much too small for Vinnie to wear, but with the zipper unfastened, the material could span across his back. Angel draped one of the sleeves over his left shoulder while looping the other sleeve under his right arm, and tied them together across his chest. She took the torn jacket back from Modo and shoved it at Vinnie. "Here, now put this back on. That's a nice truck we're giving you and I'm gonna be pissed if you bleed all over it."

"Aw, Modo, she gave me a souvenir! Here's something to remember _me_ by," he said, holding out the keys to the truck.

Angel rolled her eyes as she took them, but Mike could see her fighting to hold back a smile. She tossed her own set of keys to Modo, then sighed a little and turned to Michelangelo. "You ready to roll out?"

"Yeah, we'd better. April's gonna start to worry. She was expecting us back hours ago." Mike stepped forward to shake hands with Vinnie.

Modo's right arm was still sluggish, but the mouse reached out to pound his left fist against Mike's. "Take care of yourself, man."

"You too."

"Yeah," Vinnie put in. "And hey, when we finally get rid of the jellyfish from hell, you guys should come by and I'll introduce you to a Chicago-style hot dog."

"Only if you let me show you what real pizza is," Mike said with a grin.

Vinnie laughed. "Deal."

The two teams drifted apart. Mike lifted his hand in farewell as Modo started up the truck and drove off, heading west. He leaned back in his seat and sighed deeply as Angel pulled away. "Well, that went a lot worse and a lot better than expected."

"Par for the course," she returned with a smile.

He chuckled. "Ain't it the truth." He leaned down and dug in her rucksack until his fingers closed on her copy of _Dracula_. "A little literature to start us on our way?"

"Knock yourself out."

"I'm gonna do the voices this time."

"You are not," she said firmly.

Mike laughed, settling back in his seat and starting to read as they drove off to meet the rising sun.


End file.
